


know who i am

by Aminias



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Peter, Hurt/Comfort, ITS CUTE AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER + Smol Stiles as a Toddler what more do you want from me okay, M/M, Mild Angst, Rather Hale Fire fix it, This is sweet and pure, ace safe, fluffy fluff fluff, soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminias/pseuds/Aminias
Summary: What about the first time Stiles runs up to Peter, and Peter tries to take him back to his mom, and he's like you can't, my mama's in the hospital, and daddy thinks I don't know, but she's gonna die "orAt least Five times Peter and Stiles find each other + One time its mutual er something like thatorLove.





	know who i am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twisted_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/gifts), [red_crate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/gifts).



> What about the first time Stiles runs up to Peter, and Peter tries to take him back to his mom, and he's like you can't, my mama's in the hospital, and daddy thinks I don't know, but she's gonna die "
> 
> Some smol bean coming up to Peter because they have lost their mama  
> Peter picks them up, puts them on his shoulders--"So you can see her"--and goes off to find baby's mom  
> Even better: now whenever that kid spots him, they run away from their mom to come hug him. Eventually, he starts just slinging the kiddo over his shoulder and going back to the mom like "I think this belongs to you?"and kiddo is laughing uncontrollably  
> Now imagine this kid as a young teenager. Trying to get into trouble  
> and along comes Peter to sling them over his shoulder and be like "lost again, huh?" [carts away from trouble]  
> Kid's friends watching and maybe laughing as "OMG, UNCLE PETER! LEMME GO! THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING!"
> 
>  
> 
> I don't speak Polish I apologize to anyone who does if anything is misrepresented or bastardized you have an amazing language and I was privileged to learn about it and borrow it for this fic. :) 
> 
> Beta read by Slasher Fiend
> 
> Update the response continues to astound me and I'm so glad this can bring a little happiness to everyones day! (Because you make mine with evrry kudo comment read and smile)

 

Wide brown eyes peer up at him and Peter stares down, brow furrowed.

 

The small barnacle attached to his leg stares back unmoved. 

 

“Go shoo.” He gestures. 

 

The barnacle clings tighter. 

 

Peter sighs every inch the exasperated teenager. 

 

The barnacle’s bottom lip trembles. 

 

“Shh no, don’t cry.” Peter caves, awkwardly bending down.   

 

Mysteriously dry brown eyes narrow seriously. 

 

The boy looks about five and like he’s about to drop Peter where he stands. 

 

“Mieczysław.”

 

Peter blinks, momentarily thrown.

 

“Mieczysław.” The boy repeats sticking out his hand. 

 

Then it clicks in his head-Polish!

 

He’s been studying the language enough to read a few books in the library and keep in better contact with one of the Eastern European packs. 

 

“Cześć Mieczysław, my name is Peter," he replied trying not to stumble over the words.  

 

“Peter.” The boy repeats unlatching himself fully from the teenager’s leg. 

 

“That’s me buddy.” He ruffles the kid’s hair. “Now that we’re not strangers: where's your mother?”

 

The boy frowns, tears threatening in his eyes. 

 

“Okay.” Peter says opening his arms placating. “It’s okay we’ll find her together.”

 

Quick as a flash Mieczysław throws himself into his arms, clinging to him.

 

“Right then.” He laughs, carefully standing, and slinging him over his shoulder.

 

The kid giggles and tugs at his hair.

 

“Hey that's attached.” He finds he doesn’t mind so much. Anything’s better than the smell of  _ worryfearpanic.  _ The scent of vanilla and what he now places as rhubarb is much better. 

 

“Mush.” The boy demands.

 

“Alright alright I’m moving.” Peter starts forward, peering down the store aisles.

 

Peter tilts his head, straining his ears and hears Mieczysław’s name being called in  rapid fire  Polish. 

 

Sure enough a  frantic woman with a messy braid and a kind smile lights up when she sees them. 

 

“Mommy.” The barnacle kicks urging him onwards. 

 

“Mieczysław.” The women breathes. 

 

“You gave me such a fright you little imp.”  She scolds relief coloring her voice. 

 

Peter’s gently tries to wrangle him down as the woman shakes her head. 

 

“What if something had happened to you?” 

 

“I have got Peter.” Mieczysław informs her. He must get his impressive handle of speech from his mother. 

 

“That you do.” The boy giggles and his mother laughs relieved. 

 

“You need to say bye to the nice man.” Mieczysław frowns turning those cartoonish eyes back on Peter. He melts.

 

“It’s just for now barnacle I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He can’t say why his heart holds steady. 

 

“I pinky promise,” Peter continues. 

 

The boy raises his hand, pinky stretched towards him.

 

Peter twists their fingers together in a solemn promise. 

 

“I’m so sorry! I can’t thank you enough for finding him. I’m Claudia by the way, I only turned around for a minute I swear,” she rambles herding Mieczysław towards the shopping cart. Her English isn’t stilted but does carry a pronounced accent. Her braid swishes pointedly after each sentence. 

 

“Really, it’s fine.” Peter reassures her, watching the pair. 

 

“I’m surprised you can pronounce his name.” Claudia prattles on, fussing with Mieczysław and finally getting him to sit in the cart by showing him he’ll be facing towards Peter.

 

After they roll out of sight he finds himself buying a liter of cream soda.

 

(Talia asks why it took him so long to buy a gallon of milk he didn’t even get.) 

 

* * *

 

_ Should he get the whole wheat or the white bread?  _ Peter stares at the gas station’s limited choices.  __

 

Fuck it he was raised on Wonder Bread and he turned out fine, Tailia can deal. 

 

The smell of Vanilla extract, sticky cotton candy gone stale and root beer assault him.

 

Peter wheels around and drops the bread.

 

“Mieczysław? What’s wrong? Where’s Claudia?” 

 

The boy’s older but still painfully young and shaking like a cornered rabbit. 

 

He seems frozen, brown eyes exhausted and wiser than his years let on. 

 

Then Peter opens his arms and gets down to his height.

 

With a whimper the nine year old darts forward and lets Peter rock him. 

 

“You can’t take me back this time.” He sobs into Peter’s chest. “Mama’s sick, dad thinks I don’t know.” He hiccups, little chest rising and falling far too fast for Peter’s comfort. 

 

“She’s gonna die Peter you gotta believe me. She’s...” He gasps, small lungs desperately seeking air.

 

“Breathe.” Peter reminds him drawing in a breath himself.

 

Further speech is muffled as Mieczysław buries himself as close to Peter as he can get. 

 

The man cradles him tightly and takes them out of the store. 

 

He’s got the bones of a rabbit this boy, brittle thin, easy to snap.

 

The wolf whines not knowing what to do but press closer and try to muffle the bad scent.

 

But Peter is also a man and he can stroke the boy’s hair and let him scream and cry.

 

Slowly Mieczysław ‘s rage leaves him and the rapid beat of his heart eases to match Peter's own.

 

He’s a tick faster but that's normal, that’s how Mieczysław’s supposed to sound. 

 

Peter pokes him. 

 

“You can call me Stiles, everyone else does.” He abruptly begins wiping his eyes on Peter's ruined shirt. 

 

“Mhmm.” Peter hums, unconvinced, and pokes him again till he’s giggling. 

 

“I guess you’re not everyone else.”  Mieczysław admits nodding to himself.

 

“No I’m not Barnacle.” Peter agrees as they wait for one of the Sheriff's deputies to come pick the boy up.

 

When the cop car finally arrives Peter’s mildly surprised when it's actually the Sheriff himself. 

 

Peter holds up his hand for a Pinky Swear and is surprised when he gets a hug instead. 

 

“Thanks for finding Stiles I hope he wasn’t any bother.”

 

Peter shakes his  head   taking in the dark shadows on the man's face and faint scent of whisky on his breathe.

 

“Mieczysław  is never any trouble,” he insists surprised at his own fever. A dark part of him relishes at the man's flinch when he says the boy’s true name. 

 

“I met Claudia and him once before. I’m Peter, Peter Hale. I wouldn’t mind watching him again for you, I’m home with Talia’s kids anyway.” Why is he doing this? He glances to the cop car where those extensive brown eyes are once more beseeching him. 

 

“Actually it’s-”

 

“No trouble Sheriff. How does tomorrow sound?”

 

“Right,” the man reluctantly agrees.

 

(This time Peter brings home two buckets of cheap gas station cotton candy and refuses to share.)

 

* * *

 

Stiles easily becomes a fixture at the Hale house. 

 

Peter’s not surprised to find that when he looks for it there's Stiles bond thrumming alongside the rest of theirs. 

 

He’s pack.  

 

Mieczysław is all Peter can think about as the Hale home burns down around them. 

 

He’s already broken the windows but it’s doing little for the smoke. 

 

The fire’s only getting  thicker and it’s not like they can cross the mountain ash lines outside. 

 

He could only get the ones on the higher floor to break, even that took doing. 

Bullet proof glass has its drawbacks. 

 

The height would be too great for any of the human members to escape, they’d die trying. 

 

They’d die staying here. 

 

Thank god, Derek, Laura and Mieczysław aren’t in the house. 

 

Usually the boy would be here about now. The lil’ Barnacle was eating lunch with the Sheriff and set to be by later. 

 

He was supposed to anyway. 

 

If Peter closes his eyes and lets himself drift away from the smoke and the fear he can almost hear him calling Peter's name. 

 

Black smoke billows out of the house, wooden boards creak, and flames crackle viciously.

 

A beam falls from the ceiling and he shields his young cousin from the blow. 

 

“Peter!” A shrill voice screams and the sounds of sirens fill the air. 

  
  


* * *

 

He awakens to warmth and the feeling of pack.

 

Peter blinks, looking down at the lanky body perched carefully on the bed beside his own. 

 

His hand twitches in the boy's own and he sinks back to sleep.

 

When Peter comes to for the second time, he’s aware of three heart beats in the room.

 

The Sheriff watches him with appraising eyes and offer over a cup of water.

 

“Everyone got out alive, it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.”

 

Peter's gaze flickers over to Mieczysław pointdly.

 

The Sheriff sighs and sits back in his chair.

 

“Can hardly convince him to leave, after he went through all the trouble to make me take him over early, even then it was almost too late. Havn’t seen him pitch a fit like that since he was nine and convinced...” The man stopped and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I can promise you this  _ accident  _ is being heavily investigated.” 

 

Good they’re on the same page. 

 

“Peter?” The boy yawns rubbing his eyes.

 

“I’m fine Mieczysław,” he croaks.

 

“You’re ok, you said my name, you always say my name.” The kid mutters clutching him still sleep dazed. 

 

“Always.” 

* * *

 

Peter sniffs the air, the hint of sassafras and cooked cinnamon smell tickles his nose. 

Mieczysław!

 

The boy still insisted everyone else call him Stiles. Peter’s only concession to this was to call him further elaborate embarrassing nicknames. 

 

“What do we have here boys?” He arched an eyebrow examining the scene before him.

 

A young blond man was facing off against Mieczysław, who had another protesting boy pushed behind him, another teenager was trying to convince Jackson it wasn’t worth it.

 

Ah, the Whittemore boy, Mccall and Māhealani.

 

“Peter?!? What are you doing here?” 

 

“Looking for you Barnacle, since you seem to be lost again,” he said scooping the boy up as if he was still six.

 

“Hey! Wait, oof put me down!” The string bean twisted, beating his fists on his back.

 

“Lemme go this is so embarrassing, PETER!”

 

“Keep saying my name like that and someone's going to get ideas.” Peter laughs.

 

Mieczysław growls. 

 

“Cute.”

 

“This explains a few things.” Māhealani muttered to Jackson. 

 

“Explains what, who the hell is he?” 

 

The Mccall boy meanwhile has dissolved into laughter. 

 

“He’s Stiles.” Scott shrugs like that explains everything, and it does.

* * *

 

They get burgers and root beer floats at the old diner, squished up close to each other in the same booth.

 

Mieczysław’s brown eyes are lit up to a dusky amber and he spits out his root beer float, snorting over some joke Peter’s just told. There's not an inch of space between them pressed up close the way they are. Knees knocking together and head angled close and conspiratorial.

 

He wants to capture this moment forever.

 

Oh, he’s beautiful Peter thinks, watching the wrinkle of his hellion's nose and the arch of his smile.

 

Suddenly the Sheriff's discussion about Hales being part of the family, Peter, in particular, makes more sense. 

 

When Mieczysław moves to hug him, he opens his arms without question, burying his face in that familiar scent. 

 

They linger together longer than perhaps is appropriate on the Stilinski porch.

 

Mieczysław is the first to pull away, flushed with happiness.

 

“It’s getting dark.”

 

“Mhmm.” Peter hums distracted by the tilt of his lips.

 

“Well, I hate to see you leave, but I love watching you go.” The boy, young man now, continues haltingly. 

 

“Yes, I suppose I better go, have to return to the lair.” 

 

“I only called it that one time!”

 

“Darling boy you call it that every time.”

 

Mieczysław worries over his bottom lip, shuffling his feet.

 

“What are you thinking about? I can hear your mind whirring.” 

 

“What if you didn’t have to leave?” He eventually says, despite the determined set to his jaw the words are scarcely above a whisper. 

_ Oh.  _ Peter thinks again not used to finding himself lacking for words. 

 

“That would be interesting to explain to the Sheriff, but nothing we can’t manage.” Is what he settles on. 

 

“It’s us, we’ll find a way, besides I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” He grins, scent rich with  _ hopeadoration  _ and something else Peter finally places.

 

“Besides who will say my name?” 

 

_ I love you.  _ The wolf reads betweens the lines.

 

“Always.” 

 

_ I love you too.  _

 

Peter leans down and presses their lips together, soft and chaste.

 

The smell of rhubarb and sugar swirls to a overwhelming height.

 

They part grinning like two moonstruck fools. 

 

Mieczysław holds out his hand and Peter takes it, finally home. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
